Everything's So Boring
by Anagram-Analogy
Summary: John is out. Sherlock is bored. When will John return? A look into life at 221b Baker Street when Sherlock is not on a case. My first entry into this fandom. Not slash. Also, not the most exciting summary.
1. Bored!

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the BBC adaptation belongs to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.**

**Ok, here we go:**

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><p>"Bored."<p>

The single word echoed around the walls of 221b Baker Street. The perpetrator of the noise was lounged face down on the settee, limbs dangling from the sides. A few seconds passed, although it felt more like half an hour.

"BORED!" came the sound again, only louder, more frustrated. Having once again elicited no response, Sherlock Holmes lifted his head up and glanced around the room in confusion. Empty. John must have gone out. Dull. With a heavy sigh, Sherlock lifted himself up and wandered over to the mantelpiece. He picked up his skull and turned it over a few times absently, the weight familiar in his hand. A few more seconds passed; an absolute eternity. Sherlock gritted his teeth and wished John would hurry up and come home. It was really very selfish of him to go out on a day when Sherlock was bored, even if they did need milk. Sherlock set the skull down in John's usual chair and sat down in the seat opposite it, pressing his hands together and raising his fingertips to his lips as if in deep thought.

The light outside gradually dimmed time wore on, with Sherlock still occupied in what appeared to be a staring contest with the skull. Suddenly he leapt up and grabbed his violin and plucked at the strings carelessly, advancing to the window. Looking outside at all the ordinary people hurrying home, trapped in their mundane lives, Sherlock began to feel reckless. It must be so boring being ordinary. He rapped rhythmically and relentlessly on the window with his violin-free hand and wondered when John was coming home, scanning all the faces below.

The sound of the front door closing reached his ears. "John!" he called automatically, hearing footsteps on the stairs.

"Sorry, just me, dear," came the sympathetic voice of Mrs Hudson, who entered the room with her arms full. "I collected your clothes from the dry cleaners, Sherlock, but just this once, mind; I am your landlady not your housekeeper – what a mess you've made in this room!" Sherlock sighed, almost snarled, audibly as Mrs Hudson flitted around the room, depositing the dry cleaning on a chair and putting the skull back in its rightful place. He closed his eyes tightly in annoyance as the light was flicked on, having adjusted to the semi-darkness.

"Mrs Hudson," he began in a dangerously low voice, "would you kindly leave me alone!" Sherlock was seething and still staring out of the window. Mrs Hudson, used to such treatment by now, sighed and turned to exit the room. "Oh, and on your way out," came Sherlock's calm voice, "could you -"Mrs Hudson turned off the light before he could finish the request and Sherlock allowed himself a satisfied smile.

The smile soon wore off his face and he threw himself back onto the settee in desperation. His fine mind was surely going to waste in this state. Where was John, anyway? Sherlock moaned into the cushions in order to relieve some of the all-consuming tension. He droned out a muffled "bored…" from that position and tried not to think about cigarettes. Finally the front door opened and shut once again. Sherlock opened his eyes but gave no other response. He heard John's familiar footsteps ascend the 17 steps and the tell-tale rustling of a plastic bag which indicated he had indeed been to the supermarket. The last few seconds before John entered the room were torturous.

"Sherlock?" questioned John in his innocent voice, "why are you sitting up here in the dark?" he switched on the light revealing Sherlock lying in what looked like a stupor, having not reacted at all to the light this time. "What's the matter with you?" John looked concerned but strode into the kitchen to unload the shopping.

"Bored!" shouted Sherlock, bounding up and shaking John with some force. "Bored!" he reiterated, "I've been bored all day! Where have you been all this time? The supermarket can't have taken you more than an hour, round trip…" Sherlock was talking in his usual frantic manner, eyes wide and looking quite out of his mind with boredom.

"What are you talking about?" replied John lightly, pushing past him to put the milk in the fridge. "I've only been gone for 45 minutes! Relax, Sherlock. Nice to know that you missed me though… What do you want for dinner?"

"I didn't _miss_ you," sneered Sherlock, but with no real conviction. "Dinner? Dinner's boring."

John just shook his head and smiled over at Sherlock, rolling his eyes slightly. Next time he'd make sure Sherlock came with him to the supermarket.

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><p><strong>AN: Hope you liked it! I wanted it to be longer but it came to a natural end there. I would consider doing more chapters depending on the response, so please review! Also any suggestions for future chapters would be welcome, as thinking of ideas tends to be my main problem when writing! Thanks for reading :-)**


	2. Supermarket Sweep

**A/N: Firstly, thanks to everyone who has read and kindly reviewed so far! Also a shout out to ****HowlynMad**** for the idea for this chapter. I've tried to keep in character but I had a few problems…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and the BBC adaptation belongs to Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss.**

**On with the second chapter!**

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><p>John had tried to make it easy for Sherlock. He picked a Tuesday to go shopping, hoping that would mean it was less busy. Not that persuading Sherlock to come with him had been a breeze; there were many sulks and claims of "boring". But as John kept reminding him, there were no new cases, and Sherlock <em>had<em> been bored the last time John did the shopping alone. So there they were, wheeling a trolley around a supermarket. This was a first for Sherlock, who was looking around with a mixture of boredom and bemusement on his face.

"I still don't see what the problem is with ordering everything online," he said, breaking the amicable silence that had fallen between them.

"You need to get out of the house," insisted John firmly, who then got a glimpse of the Sherlock's expression, "Don't tell me you've never been to a supermarket before!" John could not keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"I _have_ been in a few times; can't avoid them, much as I try. Otherwise, online shopping," said Sherlock quietly, "when I _must_ eat" he added in an irritated undertone.

They came to a halt relatively near the entrance by the newspapers and magazines, as John searched his pockets for something.

"Looking for your list?" asked Sherlock idly, not really caring about the answer.

"How did you know that I –"

"You're a military man, John, neat, organised, of course you make a shopping list," reeled off Sherlock, "and just because I don't accompany you on your little shopping excursions, I still observe you getting ready."

John sighed and finally located his list. "Ok, Sherlock, remember what we agreed. No deducing people, and check with me before putting anything, and I mean _anything_, into the trolley." Sherlock merely rolled his eyes in response, which John took to be an agreement and moved off in the direction of breakfast cereals.

Sherlock lingered by the newspapers and picked up _The Telegraph_. "Boring," he said, dropping it haphazardly onto the pile after glancing at the front page. Five other newspapers suffered the same treatment. "Does this even count as news?" he asked out loud after seeing a front page devoted to a reality show, earning some strange looks from passers-by. Finally, a glossy magazine caught his attention and his eyes narrowed in fury. "John!" he said, grabbing it off the shelf and running towards his flatmate, "John. It's me in that hat again! On the front cover of _Heat_. Why is it always the hat picture?"

John started to laugh but noticed the serious look on Sherlock's face. "People like the hat," he said simply, smirking, "now go and put it back and help me over here." Sherlock trudged off and did what he was told in a way that reminded John of a sulky child, not the first time the comparison had come to mind.

Sherlock returned to John's side at the cereal aisle, where he stood dumbfounded at the vast selection on offer. How anyone was supposed to decide which sort to get, he had no idea. He saw John reach out and put a box casually into the trolley before walking away. At least John knew what he was doing here. Sherlock was filled with a need to regain some kind of control; this was a completely alien environment to him.

To John's surprise, Sherlock had been fairly quiet during the trip. He was starting to think that maybe this wasn't such a disastrous idea after all. Shortly after this idealistic thought he received a series of small pokes in the arm. "John. This is boring," Sherlock moaned. A brief silence followed. "John, I'm getting some sweets."

At this statement John looked to where the detective was pointing. Sherlock had spotted a pick 'n' mix. A few children were happily collecting their assortment of sweets. Judging by the look on his face, Sherlock had never had a pick 'n' mix in his life. John once again felt like a parent looking after a very demanding child.

"Sherlock, no. No. You can't. Pick 'n' mix is for children, it's…" John searched for an appropriate word to appease Sherlock, "boring. Pick 'n' mix is boring. Now come on, we have to get milk." John turned away and Sherlock followed with an air of gloomy rebellion, scuffing his shoes slightly as he walked. "We are here for a reason, remember?" reminded John to Sherlock.

"What's that then?" replied Sherlock in a monotonous voice which reflected his state of mind.

"Food? You know, to eat?"

"Ugh, eating; eating's boring. I think better when I don't eat," commented Sherlock, now examining his fingernails in disinterest.

"Well, I'm sure you think better when you're alive," said John with a twinge of annoyance in his voice.

Eventually they were nearing the end of the shopping list and heading towards the checkouts, when something caught Sherlock's eye. "John. I'm getting cigarettes." It wasn't a question; John reached out a hand to restrain his friend.

"No, please Sherlock, you've been doing so well…" he pleaded.

"But John," whined Sherlock in response, "we must have been in here for hours now. You've been saying no to me all day. I'm a grown man and if I want cigarettes, I'll get them! Unless you've changed your mind about the sweets, that is…"

John groaned. "Go and get some pick 'n' mix then," he relented, hoping this was enough to satisfy Sherlock, who smirked and hurried off to the sweet aisle. Apparently his pick 'n' mix deprived childhood was enough to quash his cigarette craving, this time at least. Sherlock came back looking pleased with himself a few minutes later and the two joined the queue for the self-service checkouts.

"I hate these things," muttered John to himself, remembering a certain incident where he had had to forego the shopping in order to leave with some of his dignity intact.

"It'll be fine, John," said Sherlock casually, "at least this way we avoid all human contact!" A small degree of glee edged into his voice at that thought.

"Sherlock…" sighed John exasperatedly, but smiled as he scanned the first item.

Everything at the checkout was going smoothly, until:

"Unexpected item in bagging area. Please remove item or wait for assistance," came a tinny electronic voice.

"No there's not!" John half-shouted, going red in the face, "look: bread, milk, cheese -" he lifted and replaced each respective item as he stated it. Sherlock watched on with an amused smile.

"Unexpected item in bagging area," maintained the machine coolly. Seeing that John was on the verge of erupting, Sherlock decided that this was the right time to intervene.

"Move over, John, let me do it," he said lazily, and proceeded to scan the rest of the items successfully. John's face went back through various shades of red until he reached his normal complexion.

Once they were on the way back to Baker Street, carrying their shopping (well, John was struggling while Sherlock grasped a light bag containing just kitchen rolls), Sherlock turned to John.

"It's quite easy, this shopping lark, isn't it? Don't know what you make such a fuss about," he commented, while examining a candy pig from his pick 'n' mix bag.

"Never again," said John, trying to balance the weight between his arms, "I'm never taking you shopping again. Next time we'll shop online."

Sherlock didn't look unduly bothered.

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><p><strong>AN: So there we are; hope that wasn't too bad! Please review – I appreciate each one I receive. I am accepting suggestions and prompts for future chapters; they don't have to follow on! Thanks again for reading. :-)**


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